Prometheus found his mind racing noisily as he sat still in the silence of his garage. He had spent half of the trip home contemplating the odd turn his investigation had taken but knew that he would need more information to draw any conclusions, which he could not gather while hurtling down the darkened country highways of northern France at over a hundred sixty kilometres per hour. The roads were nearly empty at that hour, but he knew better than to take his eyes off the road at that speed. Even with his multilayered suit, he could feel the tug…